She looked into the Warrior’s brown eyes that were full of anger and vengeance. “There is nothing I want more. I’m tired of being used, tired of having no control over my destiny, my life. I want it to end.”
“And the only way to do that is to take your head?” Quinn asked.
Isla nodded and swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat. “Just as a Warrior can only die by taking his head, my life will not come to an end unless Deirdre dies or my head is severed from my body.”
“Holy hell,” Quinn mumbled and blew out a harsh breath.
Isla then thought about the last thing Deirdre had been researching. Maybe if she told the MacLeods it would be enough for them to turn their attention away from her. Isla could use her powers against them. They were Warriors and therefore strong with their gods’ powers, but she was a
She walked to the table and sat down the wine she had barely touched. “Deirdre prided herself on her knowledge of Druids and magic. She knew there were those among the Druids who plotted their revenge and gave magic to items that could hamper her powers.”
Isla ignored the stares and walked around the great hall. Hayden had shifted from his place against the wall and moved toward her. Did he think she meant to flee? That would come in time, but not yet.
“What are you speaking of, woman?” Hayden demanded. His voice was hard and laced with impatience and a bit of doubt. But the way he watched her, with intent and hunger, made her heart race.
“Objects actually. They are hidden all over Scotland. Some that could hinder Deirdre’s magic, others she could turn so that they gave her even more power.”
Lucan groaned. “Just what we need. Deirdre more powerful than she already is.”
Isla stopped when she stood in front of Hayden. She had to tilt her head back just to look into his face, and what a handsome face it was. She found herself reaching up to trace his wide lips, but caught herself in time, tucking her hair behind her ear to hide what she had been about.
If she wasn’t who she was and things were different, she might actually think of flirting with him.
As soon as the thought filled her mind she disregarded it. Thinking such thoughts wasn’t for her. Her path had already been set, and there would be no altering it.
“How do you know of these … objects?” Hayden asked.
She gazed into his eyes, eyes so black she couldn’t see his pupils. Hayden wasn’t a man who bent for anyone or anything. He was a man shaped by his life just as she was, so Isla understood his gruffness.
“Long ago when I was but a child there were stories of some powerful Druid tribes who had relics passed down to each high priestess. Every generation, the Druids of the village would pour their magic into these relics.”
Hayden’s brow furrowed. “Why would they do such a thing?”
“After what happened with the release of the gods and being unable to remove the gods from the men, the Druids sought to find another way to protect Britain. They believed if an object had enough magic that it could keep us safe.”
“And did it?”
Isla briefly closed her eyes. “It was never put to the test. With Deirdre pursuing them and the Christians wanting them dead, the Druids had to bury these objects and hide. The locations were supposedly passed down through the ages.”
“Aye,” Sonya voice interrupted. “I’ve heard such tales from the Druids that raised me. They themselves did not have such a relic, but they retold the stories nonetheless.”
Fallon looked from Sonya to Isla. “Do either of you know where one of these relics is buried?”
“Not exactly,” Isla said. “I discovered what Deirdre was looking for when she began to ask me questions about those tales. So, I asked a few questions of my own.”
She paused then and looked back at Hayden. “I’m not sure how much I believe of what she told me next.”
“Why?” Hayden asked.
“Because she lies.”
“True enough,” Quinn said. “But tell us what she told you.”
Isla made her feet move away from Hayden. Being so near him unsettled her, made her think of only him, of how it felt to have his arms around her. There was something about the giant that set her off balance, and around these Warriors Isla needed to keep her focus.
She walked back to the chair she had sat in and looked at the group of Warriors and Druids who watched her. “Deirdre told me that my sister had given her a clue as to where to find the one object that could kill her.”
“What?” Fallon bellowed. “And you’re just now telling us?”
“I was going to find it myself,” Isla hurried to say. “However, I realize now I would never get to it before Deirdre finds me. Once I woke up here, I knew if anyone could find the object, it was one of you.”
A Warrior with black hair cut short rose to his feet. She looked into his gray eyes for the second time that day, and it was then she remembered who he was. Ramsey MacDonald.
“Ramsey,” she whispered.
So many Warriors had been in and out of the mountain that Isla couldn’t remember them all, but a few stood out. Ramsey was just such a Warrior. He and Broc had been inseparable while they’d been prisoners. Then one day Ramsey had escaped and Broc had given his allegiance to Deirdre. Isla now wondered if that allegiance had ever been genuine.
“You know me?” Ramsey asked as he walked toward her.
She felt a presence beside her, and somehow wasn’t surprised to find Hayden had moved near her. “I remember you from when you were held prisoner. Deirdre wanted you on her side desperately. She knew your god held great power.”
Ramsey cocked his head to the side as he regarded her. “Galen tells us that you were tortured at Deirdre’s hand.”
Isla was thankful her hand rested on the chair, for her knees nearly buckled. She forced her breathing to remain calm. “And who is Galen?”
“Me,” said a tall Warrior with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes. “I have the power to read minds. I saw into yours when Hayden and Fallon brought you back to the castle.”
Her gut twisted and knotted viciously. To know someone had witnessed the things she had been through left her shaking and cold. “You had no right.”
Galen lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You were fighting Sonya’s healing. We needed to know why.”
“And so you shared my private hell with everyone?”
“Isla,” Broc said. “Galen told us because he thought it was proof enough for us to trust you.”
She forced a laugh to keep her anger in check. “So, again, my tortures are evidence enough for you to believe me?”
“When I was in the mountain,” Quinn said, “you walked past me in the corridor and I saw blood dripping from your hand. What happened?”
Isla took a step back and slammed into a wall of muscle.
“Easy,” Hayden’s deep voice whispered.
Just knowing it was him behind her gave her a measure of calm, but it didn’t stop the humiliation of them knowing what she had been through. Repeatedly.
With no other choice, Isla smothered her emotions and kept the anger from her voice even as her heart hammered wildly in her chest. “Since you know everything else, there’s no reason not to speak of it. I was punished for disobeying Deirdre.”
“How?” Hayden promoted.
“I…” The knot in Isla’s stomach tightened as she recalled her last punishment from Deirdre. Isla had taken too long in gaining Phelan’s blood for Deirdre. The Warrior’s blood would heal anything, but in Deirdre it only strengthened her evil. “I hesitated to bleed a Warrior. So, I was punished.”
It was too much. Recalling Phelan and the disgust in his eyes for her made her ill. She had kept her dreams and thoughts to herself these last five centuries. To know her mind had been invaded, for whatever reason, was a violation she couldn’t stomach.
